Arranged marriage
by Rosie eisoR
Summary: Ok, so, Alanna went to the convent. And, ok, she married Ralon. But, wait, what's this about Duke Roger?
1. Prologue decisions

"Here are the letters, my lady."  
  
The Third Daughter nodded, allowing a slight smile to appear on her face as the nervous first year placed that morning's written arrivals before her. She scanned them quickly. The usual grateful payments, notes to ask if certain daughters could be taken on... Oh no. Not again. She exhaled loudly, attracting the attention of the Second Daughter. Without words, for none would be helpful, she passed the letter to her superior.  
  
The Second Daughter made a 'tut' sound with her tongue and front teeth. "They are incapable of finding the young knight a wife? But I remember Danielle being so promising."  
  
"Apparently all arranged marriages have fallen through, once they meet the boy in question. The boy is quite without hope."  
  
The Second Daughter sighed. A satisfied smirk fell into place. "Well, I think it is time to offload one of our own... problems, so to speak."  
  
The younger woman raised her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. "Now, which problem would that be?"  
  
Finding the correct sheet of parchment, she passed it to the Third Daughter, who scanned it quickly. A smile twisted the thin lips, a smile that might be called triumphant, on a less holy woman.  
  
"I see. Yes, I can picture that turning out quite nicely. Oh, Julia?"  
  
"Yes, my lady?" The passing girl curtsied, waiting to receive her instructions.  
  
"Would you be so kind as to fetch Alanna of Trebond for me?" 


	2. Alanna of

The boys emerged from their history lesson with Sir Myles, arguing happily. Douglass was adamant that the last Tortallan female warrior had died two hundred years ago; Geoffrey was positive it was at least one-hundred-and- fifty. Nicholas was wavering between the two, while Sacherell disagreed with both. Sir Myles had urged them to find it out on their own, after the whole lesson had been spent in conflict with each other. He knew, of course he knew. He taught history; he'd know something like that even when he was at his drunkest. However, he encouraged debates, thought that they were healthy. It also made his classes more interesting, a definite contrast to the ones taught by Mithran priests.

"Hey, Jon," Geoffrey called out to his passing knight master, who stopped to help. "How long ago was the last female warrior from Tortall?"

"Is this homework?" Gary asked his own squire suspiciously. Douglass gave a wide grin, full of innocence.

Francis slipped to the front of the group. "You should try the library. I'll help," he offered. Jon nodded in agreement, and the nine (Raoul, Gary, Alex, Jon and Francis plus the four squires) made their way to the palace library.

"I swear that the last Tortallan warrior maiden died in 320, Human Era," Sacherell decided, flinging open the library doors while he spoke.

"Actually, I believe you'll find that it was in the year 339, Human Era." The cool voice belonged to a curtsying redhead. The Prince elbowed his squire, who appeared to be enjoying the view his position afforded him a little too much. "Your Highness. Sirs. I am looking for Squire Thom of Trebond. Could you tell me where in this maze they call a palace I could find him?"

Thom pushed past the gawping party with disgust. "Is that really you?"

She nodded; copper hair bouncing as she did so. Then she stopped, a grin spreading over her face. "Well, no, as it happens, I'm actually someone else, who has taken over my body."

"That doesn't make sense," Thom pointed out, raising a reddish eyebrow.

She shrugged. "Fine; it's really me." The other boys were shocked by the happy expression on the usually sullen Thom's face as the two redheads hugged fiercely.

"Now, Thom," Raoul said, half-reprovingly, to his squire after the two had broken apart. "It's rude not to introduce new ladies."

Thom smirked sardonically. "Yes, after all, the Prince requires the name of all the women he sleeps with."

Raoul and Gary lunged at the mocking Thom, but the girl stepped into the way, smiling with apparent oblivion. Both knights straightened their tunics and turned away. She winked one violet eye at Thom.

"I don't remember seeing you around before. Why didn't you come with the other ladies of your age?" Jon asked to cover his furious blush.

"Slept with them all already, have you? That's quick work. I'm impressed." She glanced at Gary and Raoul, fully confident that they would not hit her, a female, but still ready to duck if they proved otherwise. "I had a prior engagement."

"And what might that by?" Gary demanded; after the last remark, although not allowed to strike her, due to the Code of Chivalry, he was not about to let her be evasive.

"My own." She flashed a ring.

Thom grinned; although the news shocked him as much as it did the other boys, he knew his sister. And he knew how happy she would be about it. There would be time for arguing over it, and the scanty contents of letters, later. "Is he dead yet?"

"No, unfortunately. Give me some time. I'm working on it. Now, enough about me, what about you young men? Are you eating enough? Do they give you a balanced diet? Do you get enough sleep at night? Are the beds comfortable? Is the training master working you too hard? Is he horrible? Would you like me to hurt him for you?" Her overanxious, mother-like tone made them all grin.

"So, what do you call yourself?"

"Well, I rather like 'All-powerful great one', but the Daughters insisted on calling me Alanna. If you'll excuse me." She grinned, and began chatting to Thom, drawing him away from the group.

"Unusual eyes," Jon commented.

"Bet that's not all you noticed," Geoffrey smirked. Jon towered over his squire.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that," he said, meaningfully.

"Ah, now, that would be because you were too busy thinking about Alanna's-" Geoffrey had to stop there, since Alanna herself and Thom had removed themselves from wherever they had been talking and walked out of the library, obviously in search of a more private place where they could talk more easily.

"Can't believe she's married," Raoul mused. "Doesn't seem like the type to enjoy being tied down early."

"Won't stop Jon, though," Geoffrey teased, testing how far he could go on this particular subject. "It never has before, after all."

"Gary's just as bad," Jon protested, holding his hands up in defence of himself.

His cousin shook his head, a grin on his face. "I keep my breeches on most evenings."

Jon chose to ignore that remark. "Strange she's so lively, when her brother's so..." He snapped his fingers, looking for the right word.

"Strange," Gary supplied.

"Withdrawn," Francis finished for Jon, with a stern glance at the grinning Gary.

Alanna left the door of Thom's room open, so she could bolt when the conversation turned too personal for her liking, as she knew it eventually would. It was inevitable; after all, he had just learned that she had a husband.

"Nice friends," she commented lightly.

"Well, I didn't see the point in making any. Nice ring."

"Well, I didn't see the point in taking it off. Nice... this could go on for a while."

"I know," he agreed, a little too easily for her liking. She shifted uncomfortably, wanting him to get to the point.

"So tell me the reason we're here, instead of in the library with His Most Stuck-Up Highness, and his sheep. I beg your pardon; I meant faithful followers."

"You just said it." She fixed him with a look, which said quite plainly 'Tell me now, or else', and he gave in. "I wanted to talk where we wouldn't be disturbed. Alanna, who's your husband?" Being direct with her was the only way to get any straight answers.

Alanna opened her mouth to reply, changed her mind, and left the room through the open door, thanking the Goddess that she had the presence of mind to leave it ajar when entering before. 


	3. Arguments

Alanna paused slightly, wondering where in the name of Mithros she was going to go. Having the fortune to know absolutely no safe refuge in the palace, she decided to return to the library. At least she would be partially protected from Thom's sharp tongue there.

Thom preferred to pick on people who were too sure of themselves, or that he didn't particularly like. Or that had been the case when she had last seen him. She wondered how much nearly eight years of knight training had changed him. Convent school had changed her, however much she hated to admit it. Maybe for the better, maybe she had learnt from the conniving, manipulative sluts that had made up her year. Well, actually, she conceded, they hadn't been sluts when she had grown up with them. Just intending to do whatever it took to be Prince Jonathan's wife. She shook her head in disgust.

Reaching the library, she stopped. The reason for this was the direction the inside conversation was taking.

"I pity her, the poor thing. Ralon always was the bullying type, even when he began here."

A dry chuckle came from one of the men. The Prince, she presumed. "Thom didn't appreciate being tormented by Ralon. In fact, I believe he made his disapproval so... clear, that Ralon stopped for a while."

Alanna frowned. Thom had never told her of his bout with Ralon.

"But now there's nobody to disapprove, and not a soul to see what goes on behind closed doors. Only her servants will see the bruises, and they'll be too scared to tell."

"Shame," Jonathan mused. "I asked one of the convent girls, and she said that the girl paired up with Ralon was incredibly feisty."

His squire (well, Alanna had assumed the boy was Prince Jonathan's squire) laughed. "Sounds like she'd give you a run for your money."

"She was supposed to be attractive as well. Strange they wasted her on that pathetic excuse for a male." Jonathan had obviously decided to ignore his squire.

Alanna opened the door at this point. She had picked the perfect moment, and all eyes swung towards her.

"That's no way to talk about my husband," she scolded dryly.

Jonathan's blue eyes opened wide in shock. "You're married to..." he couldn't finish.

She curtsied, remaining on the floor. "Alanna of Malven at your service."

His squire stepped forward, having previously been leaning on a bookcase. "Geoffrey of Meron, squire to his Highness." Alanna inclined her head, already sunk into a curtsy. Geoffrey bowed. "Allow me to introduce Sacherell of Wellam, squire to Sir Francis of Nond, Nicholas of Stacine, squire to Sir Alexander of Tirragen, and Douglass of Veldine, squire to Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen." Alanna nodded each time in acknowledgement of the station.

"Lady Alanna of Malven, I must ask for forgiveness regarding my behaviour towards your husband. I hope you will excuse me." Prince Jonathan's blue eyes were serious.

Alanna had been about to stop him, and then decided that she liked him being apologetic. "No, I meant that those words are too nice. The words I use are too strong for the ears of a courtier." She smiled impishly, amethyst eyes dancing.

Raoul grinned. "So, I take it you're not too happy with your husband?"

Alanna stopped looking up at them all; from her position on the floor, it really hurt to crane her neck to glimpse the top of giants. Instead, she fiddled with the embroidery on her dress. "I doubt any bird would be happy with a cockroach for a mate." She shuddered slightly.

"Why are you not with your brother?"

Alanna flicked a quick glance up at Nicholas, who blushed. "I'm trying not to get him angry."

"Well, that's an unavoidable event." The tight voice belonged to Thom, who had been standing in the doorway for quite some time.

"Always eavesdrop, do you, brother?" The words were carefree; the way they came out was not.

"Just following the example set by my sister." He smiled sarcastically.

"But that conversation included me; ours did not."

"But it included a person of my own family. The only immediate family I have left."

"On the other hand, I'm not a Trebond any more."

"No, you are, will always be, just masquerading as a Malven." He spat on the floor, showing his loathing for both family and name. "You'd be better off dead than his wife."

Alanna stood, white-hot with rage. "It's not like I can change it! You keep acting like you can make everything better with a single spell. Some things need people to change them, Lord Thom. And you better think twice before you say anything of the sort to me again." She stormed out of the room, pushing past the equally angry Thom. Her steps came to a halt only because, once more, she had no idea of where she could retreat to fume over Thom before she did something stupid, like colouring his skin light purple. He probably wouldn't be too pleased with her if she did enact the spell; after all, the girl at the convent hadn't liked it too much.

"Lady Alanna?" The questioning voice belonged to Gareth the Younger.

She turned, eyes calming slightly. "Yes?"

"Don't worry about your brother. He'll cool down."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Who knows him better, you or me?"

He grinned. "Fine. I'm guessing you don't know where the Malven rooms are." She shook her head. "I'll show you."

"Quickly, please. I don't want another showdown with my brother. Not yet, anyway."

"Jon'll keep him occupied for a little while." To her raised eyebrow, he said, "The Prince wasn't overly thrilled with the antics back there."

She shrugged. "Not my fault. I'm just a weak, innocent court lady."

He laughed. "Here's your room." Indeed, Malven was inscribed on the door.

"Thank you, Sir Gareth." She curtsied.

The knight shook his head. "Gary."

"If I call you that, will you stop the 'Lady Alanna' business?"

A firm nod was her answer.

"While you're here, you can tell me what Thom did to Ralon."

Gary smiled. "As you wish. I was taught to obey the requests of ladies." She rolled her eyes. "You've heard of hazing? And you know some enjoy it more than others? Well, Ralon, forgive me for saying this, was partial to the odd punch and slap whilst getting the first years to obey him. Thom wasn't grateful for this, and finally got so fed up; he placed Ralon on the top of Balor's Needle for three days. No one missed him."

"Doesn't sound like Thom. He'd make it lasting."

"Oh, the three days was in body. He remained up there for three months in his mind. My father wasn't exactly overjoyed with your brother."

"I can imagine." She paused, but he knew that some serious thinking was going on. "Why do you think I was chosen to marry Ralon? I mean, I know they didn't like me but..." She trailed off, but Gary sensed there was more, so he remained quiet. "I can't believe that even a bunch of malicious, conventional women would willingly give a female to a wife-hitting lunatic."

"Maybe they didn't know."

She gave a harsh laugh. "You knew, didn't you? Those gossip-hungry, scandal-craving, rumour-seeking _idiots_ know everything there is that is slightly dishonourable about nobles. Well, anything that they can find. Rumours are swirled around, made into huge fantasy stories. If a woman smiled at a man, and another female got jealous, humiliating the first woman would be a priority. Believe me, I know how women can be."

Gary settled back in the chair she had offered him; Alanna sat cross-legged on the bed. "Go on," he prompted.

"Men think they run the world. They just do the fighting part. By and large, it's females. Men don't go to court for a reason that they've come up with. At the convent, it was "Sit straight; no man desires a slumped woman." "You can walk better than that. Chin up! Imagine if you were walking with the Prince. Would he like it if you took bigger strides than his?" and "You can do anything, child. Just set your mind to it." Every single day included men. I really can't understand why I hated it." She smoothed her skirts. "Look at me. I only met you today. I didn't mean to burden you. Thank you for listening and for showing me my room."

Gary got the very obvious hint, and stood. "It was my pleasure, La- Alanna. I will see you in the morning. Unless you are coming to dinner?"

She managed a twisted smile. "And put myself prey to more idiotic, money-grabbing females? No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer, even if I would rather die."

He bowed, and put up a hand to stop her curtsying. "Again, my pleasure. I shall see you tomorrow." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Alanna sighed, changed clothes, and snuggled down into the blankets. Just like the Malven family, they were coarse and smothering. Instantly she threw them off, climbing down to curl on the rug. "I refuse to sleep in something that reminds me of those people," she declared with a low growl. Of course, the whole room was Malven property. Even she was considered as theirs. But that was a minor inconvenience and, like many of its kind, only temporary. "I will be a Trebond again," she vowed, before her lids grew increasingly heavy, and she was unwillingly forced into an uncomfortable sleep.

--

Heeheeheehee. I think I just paired Alanna with Ralon. Thanks to Radella for checking the characters. (I tend to go slightly OOC). Probably won't be able to update for ages - busy, then school. I hope you liked it. Piece of random info - the chapter was 1600 words, the author's note 50.


	4. Do you dare?

Unwillingly, amethyst eyes opened. Birdsong filled Alanna's ears. 

"Stupid birds," she muttered as she clambered out of the blankets and reached for her gown. The clasp on her necklace broke. "Is no one going to be in a good mood today apart from those birds?" She bent and wriggled underneath the bed, fumbling for the chain.

Someone rapped on her door. Typical. The knocker was most likely Thom, asking her to come to breakfast. Asking, ha! Not likely! Ordering, or forcing, were more Thom's style.

"Come in," she called, slightly triumphant; she had just successfully grasped the irritating piece of jewellery. She scrambled out again; dress slipping down one shoulder because she hadn't had the time to fasten it up before. Or the hands, come to that. But it didn't matter; it was only Thom. If he teased her, she'd blind him. Simple.

Finally free of the bed, she was offered a hand to stand. Obviously, she ignored it and rose without it. Once up, she swung to face…

Nervously, she pushed the sleeve up her shoulder, thanking the Goddess for her under-corset. She flushed, and smiled as falsely as her cheeks would permit. "I'd curtsy, your Highness, only my dress would fall down further."

The Prince laughed. "Turn around, and I'll tie it up for you," he offered in his gloriously deep - what was she thinking? He was a prick!

"Get lots of practise, doing up ladies' dresses?" she asked, while obeying.

"Not under circumstances like these." He finished, briskly turning her to face him once more.

"Thank you, your Highness."

"Jonathan, to the family of the person who saved my life."

"But that was my twin. I can't pass as him any more - I have trouble faking the beard."

He chuckled. "May I escort the lovely Lady Malven to breakfast?"

Alanna made a pantomime out of looking around. "My mother-in-law? She's here?"

"Are you going to make me be really specific?" She nodded, gleefully. "Would you, Lady Alanna of Malven, do me, Prince Jonathan of Conte, the honour of accompanying me to breakfast, in the Hall, now?"

"It would greatly please me to accept your invitation." Alanna's voice was a monotone, demonstrating the boredom she found in being polite. He held his arm out, and she took it, glowering.

--

Gary lay on his stomach. Alex towered over him, something the short knight wasn't often able to do to people. "Do you accept?"

At that moment, Jon burst into the room, interrupting Gary's reply. "Sorry; had to take Alanna back to the Malven suite."

Laughter met this comment, along with Jon's red cheeks. Gary rolled onto his back, and sat up. "I accept on the grounds that my cousin has to perform a similar task."

Raoul grinned. "What do you say, Jon? Ten gold nobles, from Alex, for you to kiss the married woman of our choice?"

Jon lifted an eyebrow. "Gary is definitely going to do this?"

Alex nodded. "Allow me to inform you of the rules. At the ball, tonight, you have to walk up to the woman we choose, recite a short, prewritten poem from your own brains, lean forwards, and kiss her. Of course, we are not willing to be held responsible for the actions of the Lady Cavall, or of the Lady Malven. What do you say?"

"I accept." He was not one to turn down a challenge.

Gary nodded. "Same here."

--

Alanna drummed her fingers on the chair. 'Boring. Boring. Boring. Sleep would be nice.' She closed her eyes, letting her head droop down.

"Isn't this so exciting? I hear the Prince is looking for a wife! Isn't it exciting? This is my first royal ball! It's amazing! All the people are so lovely…"

'Does she ever shut up?' The girl next to her must have been drivelling on for at least half-an-hour. Honestly, they could just put a parrot in her place and no one would notice. Of course, the parrot would have to be pretty. Alanna's sharp eyes noticed more than a few double takes at the lovely brunette.

"I'm Lady Danielle of Linshart. What is yours?"

"Lady Alanna of Malven." The sour tone did nothing to dampen Danielle's spirits; she burbled on happily about her incredibly pathetic knowledge of the Malvens.

"…And I hear that they're so friendly, and wonderful, and…" Alanna tuned out again.

Then, for some odd reason, she felt guilty. Well, this girl's tongue must be getting tired. Actually, so were Alanna's ears. So she decided to enlighten this evidently daft woman. "In reality, the Malven family are a bunch of conniving, snivelling creeps, and I am ashamed that I have to pretend to be one of them." 'There, that should stop her.'

Danielle's face coloured with relief. "Thanks to the Goddess. I thought you were another prissed-up court lady."

"Don't worry. I am a court lady. Just not the standard type."

"Maybe they should consider putting on our boxes 'Handle with Care.'"

Alanna grinned. "Real name, now?"

'Danielle' rolled her eyes. "Thayet. How did you know?"

"The Linshart family don't have your looks."

"So what's your history?"

"Orphan, arranged marriage to complete prat, obnoxious twin brother and I'm a court lady. Yours?"

"I think I'll keep mine for another time. It's a little long." Thayet's hazel eyes had clouded over, so Alanna didn't press her. Looking around for conversation, she saw Prince Jonathan, heading their way.

"Lady Alanna, Lady… I do not believe we have met."

"This is my friend, Lady Rosabella. She's also my cousin. Visiting from Maren." Alanna used the words for 'beautiful rose', which was the reason for Thayet's blush.

"She doesn't look like a Maren."

"But I don't look like you, and we're both Tortallan."

"Cleverly put. Lady Alanna, would you care to dance?"

"I wouldn't, but I suppose I'll have to. Thank you, your Highness." She stood, hair slipping in front of her face, creating a veil. She swept it behind her ears, and accepted his hand.

Jon grinned at Gary, who was chatting to (or up) Lady Cavall, as he led Alanna to the middle of the room. His cousin shook his head, mouthing, 'Get on with it!' Well, he was slightly ruder, but Jon ignored it. He turned back to Alanna, taking in a deep breath.

"Whenever you are near me  
Your laughter warms my heart.  
Memories still cheer me  
Whenever we're apart."

Alanna stepped back from him after the verse, and onto Lord Wyldon of Cavall's foot. She didn't even both apologising; just flicked her hard violet eyes back to Jon. Jon felt mildly sorry for the man; it was his wife Gary had to kiss tonight. Jon was actually quite insulted by Alanna's strange reaction; the poem had taken him ages to think up.

"Very nice," she said quickly, aiming for approving. "Save it for some other lady who cares, who's stupid, and who's in love with you."

"You forgot available."

"Excuse me while I go hang myself for forgetting that trivial point. Now, who was that poem really for? You only just met Rosabella. It was too good for a few minutes."

"You." Before he completely lost his nerve, Jon leaned towards Alanna and kissed her.

--

Hello!!!!! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed - inklog, Sally, V. confused, Charisma Jo, Meerkat, wildmagelioness, animalrae101, Seeking Serenity, Lilian, The Writer, Aurora, Jaelawyn Noble, PrincessSkywalkerOrgana, Cheezy Frumaja, ndblue123, PhoenixMage, Briar's Rose - nope wait, that's me -, CaTe, Princess Abby, Aliya, liz, Theola, Magelet, huntress, Lanna, Cassidelia, HarmonyLupin, Rachel1289, Green destiny, Lady Christina, Cass, Renaissance Girl, Lady Carlee/Veralidaine Sarrasri, Dewdrop, Evil Monkey of Doom (what a cool name!), earthfire, Grace, Peachblossom's girl and "Sir" Kayt. Right, kept 3 people. Avadriz - yeah! She's a slut! Jendi - I sent you 'Infidelity', and you call this little thing too far? And Radz, thanks for pre-reading, and for letting me pre-read one of your stories. Anyone want to guess what happens in this story?

I can't believe how bad I am at cliffhangers. I mean, all you are waiting for is to see what reaction Alanna gives to Jon's kissing her in public. Other people have characters falling off cliffs, or about to say something back to their Prince's proposal. Course, the latter author will have her sequel out v. soon, or I'll… tell everyone about the evil axe murderer! Oh dear, sorry Radella. B/w, that poem's off a card I found. I think this A/n is longer than the story! Anyway, HAND! A r, Rosie.


	5. Kiss

Alanna closed her eyes dreamily, enjoying the feel of his lips on hers. He was a much better kisser than Ralon. Not that the comparison meant anything. A fish was probably superior to Ralon. Unfortunately, she spoke from experience. The memories made her shudder, jogging the Prince.

Then she began thinking. Why was he doing this, in front of everyone? A hot flush spread across her cheeks. She broke away from him, breathing in deeply. Violet eyes flashed; her hand flew into the air and slapped him. She stepped on his foot with as much force as she could gather.

She left the room, running to her own.

Humiliation filled her as she thought about the kiss. She licked her lips, the taste of his not yet gone. What was she thinking? Urgh, she was turning into a soppy court lady after all those attempts to the contrary. Damn. She banged her head against the wall behind the bed in frustration.

"Ouch," a dry voice said from the doorway. Thayet stood there, hazel eyes amused.

"You took your time," the blushing Alanna snapped.

"Oh, actually I was busy. Had to find out where you were from a leering pervert and stop your stalker from joining us."

"How?" Alanna asked curiously.

"Let's just say he won't be sharing his bed for a while," Thayet grinned impishly. "Who was he?"

"The Prince. Not just any prince. That was Crown Prince of Tortall, Jonathan of Conte who you kneed in the crotch."

"Oh. Right. Oh dear. What a shame. I suppose I just committed social suicide? He's a handsome one, admittedly."

"Not if you've just spent the last seven years curtsying to a large, full size portrait of him. Well, six and a half. It somehow got mysteriously defaced." Alanna smiled at the memory of the moustache and the penned on glasses. "Now, what's exactly is in your personal history? We have enough time now."

"Orphan. Father dead, mother before him. Personal guard, no siblings. No further details needed."

"Not married?" Thayet shook her head. "WHAT? I get the obnoxious sibling and the ugly husband? Something's really messed up here."

Thayet threw her head back and laughed. " Poor you. You must feel so deprived. Now, tell me about your art work on the face of the Prince." Someone knocked on the door; rolling her eyes, Thayet went to answer it.

Alanna could clearly hear their conversation.

"Something I can assist you with, your Highness?" Thayet's deep curtsy was incredibly graceful.

"Depends whether you'll kick me again or not, Lady Rosabella."

"Not."

"Then yes. Would I be allowed to see your cousin privately for a moment?"

"Of course." She let Jon in, and added, "I said absolutely nothing about her not hurting you, and I sincerely hope she does serious damage," before closing the door on her way out.

Awkwardly, he sat on the edge of the bed. She scrambled away from him, perching on the other side. He caught her hand, preventing her from moving any further.

"Why did you mind so much when I kissed you?" She hadn't expected him to be this direct with her.

"Because." She wished he would let go of her hand. She transferred her stare from the floor to meet his eyes, and he locked their gaze together. She cursed him silently, not being able to look away from those hypnotic sapphire blue eyes.

"Because what?" he croaked, sounding exactly like she felt at that moment.

"Because I'm married. Because it was difficult to breathe. Because you'll get married to some air headed princess. Because it was in public." She thanked the Goddess that her tone was even.

"We're not in public now," he pointed out.

"No, we're not." What a great conversationalist she was (!) No wonder she was a court lady!

"Would you mind very much if I kissed you again?"

Her eyes fell onto his mouth. "Yes. Very much."

"What would you do, if I did?"

"Kick you all the way to Scanra. Laughing the entire way." She faltered on the humour part.

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, sending butterflies through her stomach. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it of confusion. What was she thinking? Did she want to be kissed again?

A movement outside startled both; Alanna flew to the floor, into a curtsy, Jon stood, as if he was just about to leave, or had entered the room only a moment ago.

The door opened.

Ralon's cold eyes flicked over the pair.

"Kindly leave us, your Highness, if you have no objections. My wife and I have some… business to attend to."

--

Heehee. Got to go; 'My family' is on the telly! Hope you enjoyed.


	6. Thom's Challenge

Past, Present and Future… All in one 

--

She knew what was coming. Why else would he want privacy? She watched as her husband closed the door behind the Prince.

"What were you thinking of? Now everyone is talking about you and the Prince. Are you having fun, muddying the name of my family?"

"You do that perfectly well by yourself." Alanna bit her tongue, cursing whatever insanity had caused her to say those words. She let go when it began to throb painfully.

Ralon seemed to be shaking with anger. He looked uncannily like a pig she had once seen. He grabbed a fistful of her pinned-up hair, yanking it until, reluctantly, she stood to avoid her locks being pulled out in tufts like the one he currently held. His fist struck her cheek; she reeled backwards.

"Does it make you more of a knight, picking on those who can't fight back?"

When he came towards her again, she kneed him with all her strength. Ralon's eyes flashed; partially bent over, he roughly pulled her closer.

"I'll teach you to do that to me, wench!" She struggled; he merely laughed. Holding her arm with both hands, he applied pressure. A white-hot ache shot across her body part at the exact moment that a sickening crack met her ears. She gasped with pain as her legs gave way and she ended up on the floor.

'He's going to kill me,' she thought dully, not really bothered. 'And Jonathon wasn't supposed to be in here, so he can't say anything.' She closed her eyes as he lifted his clenched hand. 'Well, I'd just like to thank everyone for coming to my rescue-'

Three sharp raps sounded on the door. 'Would you look at that? Thank you,' she silently blessed the knocker. Ralon growled in frustration. His arm dropped to his side and he opened the door a crack.

"Malven. I want to see my sister."

'Ignore that. Curse Thom. Let him rot in hell. Well, after he's sent Ralon there.'

Ralon hesitated. "She's in a bad way."

"And you will be as well. Let me and my cousin pass."

"Somebody broke in here," Ralon said flatly. "She put up quite a fight. Isn't that right, Alanna?"

"No," she called. "I don't think it can be called breaking in when it's your room."

Thom pushed Ralon aside, and out of the room. "Go away," he said crisply. Ralon was given no choice; Thayet swept past him, with a well-aimed kick, and the door was closed.

"Get up," Thom ordered.

Alanna just looked at him. Her brother, for all his supposed intelligence, could be incredibly dense. She created an amethyst cloud around herself and began to heal her broken arm.

"I'll get him for this," Thom growled.

"That's nice, brother. Whilst you're doing that, would you give him a present from me? Tell him I'm going to have his baby." Alanna was glad the purple mist hid her smile from her twin.

"WHAT? YOU – AND… AND HIM? Seriously? I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" Thom roared.

"Why?" Alanna spluttered, removing the veil of magic.

"I could have done that," Thom grumbled, indicating her arm, her imaginary pregnancy out of his mind for the moment.

"Yes, well, which healer did you have to borrow off to get rid of Duke Roger's utterly pathetic spell?" Alanna pointed out.

"It was urgent. I wanted to try the fire-water spell."

"It was on my exam day!"

"He was ruining the magical aura around Corus. My magic could have suffered!"

Thayet's beautiful eyes were slowly widening. "Explanation?"

"Yes, Alanna. Just how did you get pregnant?"

"They don't teach it at the palace?" Alanna's brows creased together. "Anyway, who's pregnant?"

Thom glowered at his wickedly grinning twin. He turned to Thayet. "Did you hear of the Sweating Sickness?" The brunette nodded. "Well, it gained strength from the death of its victims. One night, Jonathon, Gary, Raoul and Francis all contracted the virus. It happened to be the night I wanted to try a new spell. The Sickness was the strongest yet."

"He forgot to mention that it also happened to be the night of my magic exam."

"Yes, anyway, I borrowed-"

"Stole," Alanna added. "Magic from me. He dissolved the disease with my magical knowledge, and was the hero of Tortall. Never mind that it was _my_ magic he used," she scowled. "Never mind that I failed my test by fainting into the tea I was serving."

"Oh, shut up," Thom said good-naturedly.

Thayet swallowed a smile. "Thom, you seem to have forgotten the reason we're here," she reminded him gently.

"Alanna, I want you to divorce Ralon."

"What's the or?" Alanna asked.

"Or I'll kill him."

"Or yourself! Thom, you know he's in league with someone powerful."

Thom looked at her, purple eyes shining with greed. "Yes, but with your help, I can overthrow him, and be known as the greatest sorcerer in the world."

"Or, here's an alternative. You could die, and be known as the most stupid idiot in the world," Alanna snapped. Turning to Thayet, she assumed a calm aura. "You are so lucky you don't have a brother to deal with."

"I don't know. Buri's pretty masculine."

The door creaked open. "Thank you, your Highness," the brunette at the door said, dryly.

Thayet's eyes flickered. Then she began to laugh. "That's funny, Buri. Alanna of Malven, Squire Thom of Trebond, meet Buri." Alanna and Thom were both scowling at the reminder of the part of their lives they hated most – Alanna her marriage, Thom his knighthood training.

Buri concealed her surprise and extended a hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"Buri, how did you find us?"

Buri ignored Thayet's question. "Are you twins?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"It's just you have different fiefs," Buri explained.

"Marriage."

"They'll be the same soon."

The twins had spoken together, but Alanna prodded her brother's green tunic with her ring finger.

"What does that mean?" Her tone was joking, but her face betrayed her fear.

"I'm going to challenge Ralon and kill him."

--

Natalie, yes I was Rose Maiden. No, Radella and I don't know each other personally. And, if she doesn't e-mail me back, we won't know each other at all! J/k.

Thanks for letting me reach over 100!

And thanks anyone who reviewed Exposed, and Gone Forever. They ( this) broke my writer's block, which is why they were a bit… strange. Oh, thanks Radz for threatening my reviewers. They don't feel so safe now, do you? Death to George! Smiles

And, a couple of people have mentioned this. Now, could you please put in your pretty box who you want Alanna to end up with. So far, its like this.

Jon; 1.

George, Gary, Raoul, Myles, Roald (king), Alex, Francis, etc; 0.

Thanks.


	7. The conflict a visit from the Goddess

The royal court was full of excited murmurs. The scandal was thrilling - brother-in-laws fighting! Thom's bored violet eyes wandered over those nearby. He recognised all - Lady Delia, nursing a red handprint crossing her cheek, Sir Alex and Sir Francis, tending to her. And on the other side Gary, Raoul, the Prince. The other squires in Thom's year. The Prince's other cousin. Ralon of Malven, the wife of whom had retreated to her bedroom after her smug outburst. Thayet, Buri, Kieran. Sir Myles. Didn't gossip travel fast? The last people he laid eyes on were a bunch of giggling court ladies. 'Alanna shouldn't be one of those. Damn Maude. Damn Coram. Damn them all.'

--

Violet eyes peered intently. Violet eyes peered intently back.

"There is no point in a reflection if all it does is show what's taking place in front of it," the redhead decreed, stepping back from the wall the mirror hung on.

"There is point in very little, my Daughter. The mirror shows truth. Usually." Alanna gulped. An elegant, dark haired lady had entered her room.

"Are you lost?" she enquired with a shy curtsy. The vision before her surpassed even Thayet's beauty. Maybe even the Goddess. Well, she didn't know about that one, having never seen the Goddess, but...

A tinkling laugh, pleasure mingled as one with pain, met Alanna's ears. "No, my Daughter. I am not lost. And I am glad you think well of me. Now, I understand your brother is fighting your husband?" A glum dip with the head was the only response she received. "Don't be upset. Even the mirror can be tricked." The Lady walked out, closing the door behind her. It seemed even goddesses - for who else could she be? - were polite. Alanna returned to the mirror, feeling peculiar. Not just because a divine being had visited. What on earth had she meant? 'Even the mirror can be tricked.'

Alanna looked into the glass. This time, Squire Thom stared back.

--

Thom pushed his sleeves up, preparing his mind for the battle ahead. They fell down again, feeling tighter than his usual clothes. He looked down. Alanna's purple dress covered his body. 'Mithros, what has she done now? That girl is going to die!' Thom fumed. Turning his squire outfit into a dress. Honestly. He turned to slink out, but the ugly Ralon blocked his way.

"Alanna."

Thom glowered up at the knight, wishing he were somewhere - anywhere - else. Stupid Alanna. Was this meant to be funny? Hang on, what did Ralon mean by calling him 'Alanna'?

"I can't believe you think that a mere squire will beat me," Ralon hissed, spraying spit all over Thom.

"I will," Thom retorted. Only, his voice didn't come out of his mouth. It was Alanna's. Quickly, he pushed past the idiot and ran to Alanna's quarters.

"ALANNA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? OH, YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!" Thom roared. Alanna stepped away from the wall, and faced him. A grin passed over her mouth. Everything, from the ruffled, cropped hair, to the well-worn boots, belonged to him.

"It wasn't me," she replied.

"Who was it then? The Goddess," he said sarcastically. She looked at him. Holy - wait a second? The Goddess had done this? "How?" he croaked.

She shrugged in response. "You coming to watch then?" she asked, in Thom's deep voice. He rolled his eyes and nodded, very reluctantly. His twin smiled again and twirled his sword.

"You better have practise with the sword, and not show me up."

She gave him a third smile, this one filled with hope. "I might be very good at sword fighting. I wouldn't know – I've never tried." Before he could stop her, she was out the door. He followed, muttering about interfering goddesses.

Ralon's hand twitched. Thom had just entered the room, along with his twin. He'd show them who were really powerful. Those who followed Duke Roger were not easily beaten. Thom hopped up opposite him. The Trebond eyes flashed as the boy drew his sword out.

"Cross your weapons. Honour the laws of chivalry, your country and yourselves. Let the combat begin," the King commanded. Ralon barely batted an eyelid – it was the standard beginning to any contest, but Thom looked at the King for a long second, mouth slowly curving. Ralon took his chance and leapt into battle. Dishonourable, but who really cared?

Mist slowly drifted out of the squire's eyes as he blocked again and again. Pathetic really, he was only just holding Ralon off. Ralon's eyes suddenly caught the Prince's gaze and he stumbled. The Prince had been talking to his wife. Leaning in closely!

Thom took advantage, whipping the small sword around and lightly scratching Ralon's arm. Ralon nearly fell into the corner, not having expected this turn of events. The sword dug into his chest – luckily the hilt pointed into his body, not the blade. The boy didn't even know which way to hold his sword! Laughable!

He met Thom's eyes, preparing to shove his own sword into the other's chest, but stopped. Thom's eyes… They matched the Thom he had seen throw him onto Balor's Needle, the one who looked away when anyone mentioned the Sweating Sickness, the one who held his head proudly. Yet they matched Alanna's, when she had scowled upon meeting him, when she had married him, when she had been scared of him. They were proud, the twins of Trebond. And both of them shone out of Thom's eyes. That scared him.

"I fought this because I deserved to show everyone how weak you are. Beaten by a girl with no fighting experience, shameful, wouldn't you agree?" The eyes narrowed – Alanna's eyes, he realised. This was Alanna. Not Thom. "Never hurt me again." She carved a long thin scratch down his torso as a physical reminder of her threat and left him to crumple on the floor.

Roald stood, clapping her. The rest of the court, like sheep, followed their King. She smiled at the thrones and jumped off the courts, moving over to her brother. Ralon watched her go, knowing he would have to be wary from now on. A long shadow fell over him.

"Beaten by a squire?" Francis of Nond asked, eyebrows lifting into his fair hair. "Roger won't be pleased."

"Beaten by a girl," Ralon admitted, using Francis to help him stand, not sure if Francis knew what he meant, or if he thought Ralon was comparing Thom's strength to that of a girl's. It didn't really matter. Francis merely snorted and staggered over to Roger, half-carrying Ralon.

--

Alanna grinned, watching her appearance fade back into a girl's. She faced Thom; also back to normal. His expression contradicted her happy one.

"What's wrong?" she asked carefully, not sure of the answer she'd receive.

He gaped at her. "I didn't realise how close you were to the Prince," he finally stammered.

Her brows crossed. "What do you mean? I hardly know him."

"I mean," he said, spitting with rage, "That your precious Prince just tried to kiss me."

'Of course, he was away when Jon kissed me in the hall,' she remembered. Suddenly an image flicked across her mind and she whooped with laughter. "He… He tried to kiss you?" she spluttered. Her twin glared at her. Helpless with laughter, she looked up as the door opened. "Thayet, Jonathan tried to kiss Thom," she shrieked.

Thayet entered the room, a bemused expression twisting her features. "Seriously?" she asked, incredulously.

Alanna nodded.

"King Roald sent me to tell my dear cousins that a ball is being held in your honour." Thayet's crimson mouth began to twitch whilst she watched Alanna shove a protesting Thom out, ordering him not to be a 'peeping Thom' as she put it, giggling the whole time. Explanations would come now, then the dressing and finally the torture. Or ball, as some people put it.

©

Radz, I did update! Ha! Sticks tongue out. Oh, hope you liked it, and thanks to Ruby Radcliffe (no, I'm not gonna shut up about that) and Jae for giving me future plot ideas. Also, Snowflake (I love doing ) for saying her story might not be A/J. And of course, the Tellytubbies.

Oh, and everyone who joined KCN. But not SPA. And you, because you're going to review, aren't you? Now. Please?


	8. Dance into dreamland

Alanna scowled across the room. She hated balls, and this one… Her scowl consumed most of her face.

"Cheer up," the Prince ordered as he swept a new girl around the room. "It's your brother's celebration dance."

That was true. This was all in Thom's name. She did all the work, and she got punished for it by a ball in her brother's honour.

Alanna raised her eyes to Jonathan, reminding herself that he had tried to kiss her whilst her brother was performing heroic deeds. Well, actually, he had tried to kiss Thom, and she had been the one fighting, but that didn't matter. He still thought he owned her. "We'll see about that," she muttered, and strolled over to the lady who had just been released from Jon's hold. Alanna slipped a piece of paper into Lorene's slim hand and walked away.

"Would the troll like a dance?" Jonathan joked, eyes twinkling with his so-called humour.

Alanna glared at him. "I don't know. Why don't you ask Delia herself?" He raised his brows at her bad-tempered reply, and disappeared into the crowd of dancers.

Lorene patted Alanna on the shoulder. "Is it really that… size?" she asked, horror in her solemn blue eyes.

Alanna nodded gravely. "That's why he's after so many different ladies. Once they've… they don't... Never again." The lady's blue eyes widened to plate-size. "Nobody likes to say in public, he believes he's just a woman magnet. It wouldn't do to upset the next king, if you get my drift…"

Lorene was a gossip-fiend, and if this worked, Jonathan just might be in trouble.

Just then, Jon appeared again out of the colourful cloud of people. What was he? Some sort of annoying creation made to torture her?

Alanna glowered, anticipating what he was going to say. "No, I would _not_ like a dance with his Royal Highness, if it's all the same."

He smirked at her, proud to be able to prove her wrong. "Actually, I wanted to ask Lorene if she'd care for another." He held his hand out for the lady to accept.

Lorene's eyes travelled the width from his index finger to his thumb. Muffling a shriek, she ran away.

Alanna pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Jonathan, completely confused, stared at her.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"No, I would _not_ like a dance with his Royal Highness, if it's all the same," she repeated. "I suppose Lorene didn't want one either."

Jonathan sat next to her. She wrinkled her nose, as if an unpleasant smell hung in the air nearby. "Is this because of the kiss?"

"Ask Thom," she prompted. "He didn't seem to enjoy it much. Now, excuse me, I need to celebrate my victory over Ralon."

Jon's dark brows crossed. Alanna raised her own and slipped into the roomful of dancers, young and old.

The musicians struck up a waltz, encouraging young lovers to take the opportunity to dance. Alanna pursed her lips, eyes scanning the room for company. She wasn't lonely, exactly, just… alone. Which was different, obviously. She saw Lorene dragging her brother's knight master out from behind a curtain, and stifled a laugh. The huge giant despised court functions. As did she, come to that. Far too much prancing and fluffing of feathers, which seemed to her to be appropriate behaviour for a menagerie, rather than a court.

"Might the lady care for a dance?" a smooth voice asked.

Alanna's eyes met blue ones approvingly. "She might. It depends on who is asking."

His mouth curled in a smile. "Such spirit." He extended a hand. "I would be Duke Roger, the Prince's cousin."

The redhead dropped into a curtsy, murmuring, "It is a privilege to meet you at last, your Grace."


	9. The view from here is astounding

Ok, ok, I have an update. I honestly can't believe that people haven't tired of Lady Alanna fics, but what the hey. Hope you like :P I have a severely twisted idea for this fic that's beginning to progress, but right now it's in my mind only. Apologies for that.

--

A passer-by might presume that the Prince of Tortall had nothing more important on his mind than the perusal of the opposite wall. If said passer-by had passed by roughly and hour ago (obviously in the great scheme of things, time should not always be measured to the most precise degree, in order to lend an aura of uncertainty), that by-passer would have seen the same sight; Prince Jonathan sitting – well, slouching – in his chair, staring moodily at the wall.

Of course, Jonathan did have more important things on his mind, as it turns out. And what could possibly be more important than the careful study of the layering of stones?

Girls. Or, to be more exact, women. Particularly one woman.

At first, he'd thought she liked him. He'd thought he could offer her a little release from the trials of being a Malven – he doubted Ralon was much of a bed partner. Then, she'd begun to plague his mind until he was unable to concentrate on anything else. And that kiss...

But ever since, she'd not only backed off, she'd apparently launched a hate campaign against him. Jonathan had had to deal with girls snickering behind their fans and eyeing places that their modesty should not allow them to.

He sighed, kicking the wall. Was she more trouble than she was worth?

Jon heard movement behind him, and then the sounds of another chair being drawn up next to his.

"The view from here is astounding," observed an all too familiar sounding voice. And she seemed to have changed again. The Prince struggled not to stiffen and turned to face her. "Yes, none like it in all of–" He broke off abruptly, eyeing her in shock.

"Ralon's idea," she said mournfully, attempting to drag the bodice up to a decent level. "You can see why I sought refuge in here."

Jonathan was having difficulty not gaping. "Ah – what made him think of it?"

"Oh, I'm not appealing enough. Apparently every man in the palace should want me. Never mind those who'll act on it, not every man respects the institution of marriage. And that's not where my eyes are," Alanna finished tartly.

"My apologies, my lady, it's just..." He swallowed tightly and shifted his eyes back to the wall, apparently unable to keep them from sliding from her face. "The view from here is astounding."

She laughed and pulled a face. "Stop it, you'll make me blush." Alanna glanced around. "No cloak, I suppose?"

He shook his head, wondering if he should offer to fetch one. "Are all your dresses this – this way now?"

She let out a shriek. "Oh, sweet Mithros, they'll have gotten them all. Gods curse it."

"You can borrow my clothes," Jonathan offered, somewhat reluctantly.

She half-laughed at that. "A girl in boy's clothing? I think people would have convulsive fits. I'll have to stick with this flower in, ah, full bloom look. Excepting the fact that I can't breathe or move – your parents aren't planning any balls within the next... year?"

He glanced at her, then had to return his eyes to the wall again. "Tomorrow night, I'm afraid," he said apologetically. "And it's Midwinter soon."

He sneaked another peek – she looked crestfallen. "Goddess. I'm going to be a frozen disgrace. I don't think I can even dance in this thing. You wouldn't-" She turned to him hopefully.

Despite himself, his curiosity was piqued. "Wouldn't what?"

"Practise with me now?" she asked. He finally dared to properly turn around and was pleased to note his self-control. Her eyes were hopeful.

"I suppose so," he replied, as though it was a big deal, and stood, extending his hand to her. "Would Lady Alanna favour me with a dance?"

She stood gracefully – strange, for someone who claimed to be unable to dance in the dress, but he put it to the back of his mind. "Only if your highness chooses a favourable dance," she replied with a smile.

The dance itself was uncomfortable. She insisted on practising in the positions her husband preferred, which allowed him a view that the Prince would normally delight in, but left it hard to concentrate on anything else, such as the complicated steps and keeping up with the conversation.

Alanna, as breathless as he, stopped the dance. "I'll grace the floors, or suffocate trying," she said with a grin. "My thanks, your Highness."

She curtsied, offering rather more than he thought she'd intended to, and left, leaving the Prince even more confused.


End file.
